Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Turning and turning within the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer

Things fall apart, the center cannot hold

And a blood dimmed tide is loosed upon the world

Nothing is sacred, the ceremony sinks

Innocence is drowned in anarchy

The best lack conviction

Given some time to think

And the worst are full
Of passion without mercy

Surely some revelation is at hand

Surely it's the second coming
And the wrath has finally taken form

For what is this rough beast

It's hour come at last

Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born

Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born

Oh oh yeah
To be born, oh oh oh yeah
Hoping and hoping as if by my weak faith

The spirit of this world would heal and rise

Vast are the shadows that straddle and strafe

And struggle in the darkness troubling my eyes

Shaped like a lion, it has the head of a man

With a gaze as blank and pitiless as the sun

And it's moving its slow

Thighs across the desert sands

Through dark indignant, reeling falcons

Surely some revelation is at hand

Surely it's the second coming
And the wrath has finally taken form

For what is this rough beast

It's hour come at last

Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born

Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born

Oh oh yeah

To be born, hey Bethlehem, shape of a lion

Raging and raging, it rises from the deep

Opening its eyes after twenty centuries

Vexed to a nightmare, out of a stony sleep

By a rocking cradle, by the sea of Galilee

Surely some revelation is at hand

Surely it's the second coming
And the wrath has finally taken form

For what is this rough beast
It's hour come at last

Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born

Slouching towards Bethlehem to be born

Oh oh yeah

To be born, hey Bethlehem

Shape of a lion, oh oh
Just the shape of a lion, oh oh

Hey Bethlehem, shape of a lion